CRAFT by Under My Host® Issue No. 14 Sci-Fi & Fantasy - Page 99

its copper fermentation tank, was more figu- ratively caressed by the music. But it was no less cultivated by the soundwaves, and the romance of fermentation is no less apt. Sens- es are meant to be experienced in tandem, in trinity. Credit: Adelle Brodbeck for Against the Grain Brewery But before we got down to the business of brewing, we found ourselves sucked into their whirlwind, their Kentuckian tornado of hospitality and words and ideas: They had a plan, and we needed bikes. (I admit I was ex- pecting cars, fast cars. On our previous visit, we’d raced cops through downtown Louis- ville in a sleek black Mustang. And won.) On bikes, we charged down streets to check out Copper and Kings American Brandy distill- ery, makers of brandy, absinthe, and gin. This was, in more ways than were first ap- parent to me, a relevant encounter. These guys are visionaries in their industry, known among those who know as the punk rockers of the brandy world, and as we followed head distiller Brendan O’Daniel on a tour of the operation, those reasons became clear. Three copper stills: Isis, Magdalena, and Sara (each named for a woman in a Bob Dylan song, in case you didn’t catch that). And a room stacked high with barrels. And music. Constant music. Hard rock, alt rock, jazz, hip hop, whatever the folks on the floor are in the mood for, blasted through amps pointing di- rectly at the stacks. The vibrations, he said, keep the liquid inside the barrel moving and expose more of it to the oak it’s aging in. Say these kings of spirits, “You stroke brandy into shape.” The physical experience of the music is, literally, cultivating the flavor. Whoa. Yes. Our friends at ATG didn’t just want us to experience things the way they do. They wanted us to experience the tastes, sights, and sounds of their town for ourselves. And the night was young. So, after a Copper and Kings rooftop tasting (both absinthe and brandy blew my mind) and with much shout- ing, we moved on. Back on our bikes, ping ponging across town to Garage Bar and then through the dusk, to dine at Proof on Main at 21C (Louisville’s preeminent hotel art gal- lery restaurant), and on to end the evening at Big Al’s Beeritaville. Our already heightened senses rode the full spectrum of Louisville’s spoils. But we weren’t just there to party. We did have some work to do. Day two. Brew day. We met up with ATG brewer Amelia Pillow before the brewpub was open to diners and drinkers, the tall commu х́ЁѼѼ)ѡѡɕѥɕѽݕȁȁ)ѕٕɱѡͥٔɽ)ѼȰɸձѥѕ͕ȁˊe)չѥ5)ѡ ѥٔٔ)݅́ѡ՝љհ٥ͥѡɕ)=ȁéٽȁɽݡЁݽձe)Յ䁉͕ɕ́Ёѥݸ+ !չɕѼ=11 ܸɥ́ɕ͕ٕ